True Moxy!
by Berouge
Summary: Movieverse- Dying is easy, living on is the hard part. It takes a certain amount of MOXY! SPOILER ALERT FOR ROTF! It helps if you've seen the movie.
1. Chapter 1

AN~ Oooo…transformers! Robots in disguise. Transformers! Hope this doesn't burn your eyes!!!

I tried.

Story by: Berouge. Directed by: Berouge. Characters by: Berou- HASBRO!

**True Moxy!**

**Ink it.**

"Is this really necessary?" Major William Lennox drawled, uninterested from his slouched position in the 'patients' chair. He had better things to do than decipher shapes in formless blobs of ink in order to determine if he was damaged or not.

Sighing quietly, the Military issued psychologist shifted his grasp on the ink sheets so he could push his black rimmed glasses back up his crooked nose. "We've discussed this already, Major Lennox, and for the third time, your superiors deemed it prudent for everyone from Egypt to go through this. If you have objections, I suggested you contact one of them. So until then," Shifting another ink splattered card to the forefront. "Tell me what comes to your mind first." He invited encouragingly.

Grunting in resignation, Lennox rested his head against his fist as he eyeballed the black mass of blotches. "Air Balloons."

"Good. How about this one?"

"Clouds."

"Alright. This one?"

"A chicken."

"And this one?"

"A fluffy kitten being smashed by a man in a top hat."

The good doctor was not amused. "Major Lennox, would you prefer me to inform the Brass of your insubordination to a direct set of orders?"

Lennox frowned "What if that's the first thing that came to my mind?"

"Then, Major, I shall see you again tomorrow for another hour session." Pushing his glasses back up his nose, the older man leveled the solider with a critical eye. "You might not be stable enough for my taste to be around such…unscrupulous individuals as those robot creatures."

"Did the ink stains tell you that?" Lennox muttered, unimpressed with the mediocre threat about his psychological health around the autobots. When you've been nearly blown off the atomic blip screen by hostile alien invaders hell bent on destroying all you hold dear, a pushy guy with a Ph.D is nothing on your professional resume.

"Really now Major Lennox, aren't we a little old to be bickering like this?" the annoying man countered with raised brows.

"What can I say; I'm a kid at heart." Lennox rallied back. Standing to his feet, the Major straightened his fatigues before continuing to address the scowling psychologist, "Thank you for your mental diagnoses, Doc, but I have things that need my immediate attention and I've put them off long enough."

Resigning to the Major's will, the older gentlemen jotted a few quick notes down on his tablet before unfolding to his feet as well. "So be it, Major." Extending a green leaflet of paper to the solider, the psychologist continued "I'll expect you tomorrow at ten hundred hours for a continual of today's session."

"What? The Brass only said for _a _diagnoses checkup; as in _one_ session!" Lennox balked at the prospect of another hour being wasted with this irritating touchy-feely guy.

"IF the patient checked out as 'stable.'" The psychologist pushed the paper on the protesting soldier. "Really now, Major Lennox, it's just another therapy session. I'm not asking for your soul."

"It this _really _necessary?" Lennox growled out as he was all but pushed towards the metal door.

"Yes!" the response was tossed at him before the door was practically slammed in his face. Huffing angrily at having to return tomorrow for another pointless hour, Lennox crumpled the green leaflet in his fist.

Turning on his heal, the Major stormed off down the metal hallway toward the mess hall. That stupid session had saddled up close enough to lunch that he figured all those 'things that needed his immediate attention' could wait a while longer so he could grab a bite to eat.

Turning down another hallway, the Major had to pause to get his bearings before continuing on in what he faintly figured to be the right direction. He didn't care much for air craft carriers; they were too big, and cramped for his taste. An oxymoron if he ever saw one, the ship was a ridiculous maze of interconnecting hallways that never seemed to end. The eerie echo of water against the hull didn't help his nerves any either.

Coming to a cross roads, Lennox gazed down both directions before glancing about for a sign, or a road map that could help lead him to the mess hall.

**A2DECK- A5DECK ACC336, **was stamped on the wall unhelpfully beside him so he just meandered left and hoped for the best.

A pair of air force MPs had come for him in his quarters as he was going over N.E.S.T reports and preparing his debrief in order to take him to Doc Touchy-feely for his military issued mental examination. Having only been on the carrier for less than two days, Lennox hadn't had a lot of time for exploring with all the people, reports and just general tasks he had to organize and look after. Not to mention he had been checking up on the autobot leader almost every hour.

Optimus Prime had been in desperate need for a stasis recharge, so once he'd been loaded into the ships' cargo hold, the large mech had powered down to 'sleep' in his rig form and been that way ever since. Ratchet had taken up a spot directly next to Optimus and had wired the big blue mech up with cords directly connected to medic's own internal systems.

"To keep an eye on his progress at a more intense level." The hummer had explained. "Just a precaution."

Lennox hadn't bought the 'just a precaution' statement, and nether had anyone who had been present for the resurrection of the autobot leader. Ratchet and the other 'bots were worried, and therefore, their human comrades were too.

So he figured he could be excused for not paying attention to his location, though he was pretty positive that his former drill sergeants and special operations instructors would have something to say about his slacking behavior. He mentally snorted at the thought. None of them had thirty foot tall alien robots who liked getting into trouble as friends.

Coming to a second intersection, he took another stab at determining his location, before giving up as easily before and randomly picked a corridor. Besides, he thought he recognized that non-descript water pipe back there on the wall. Oh well, he'd eventually get it right, or find an air force lackey to show him the way.

That is to say, if the entire crew on the ship weren't trying to get a peek at the autobot team back in the cargo bay. If that were the case, he was on his own. As the random thought traveled through his brain, Lennox began to frown a little more; the autobots weren't an exhibit to be gawked at. All he needed was trigger-happy Ironhide getting irritated enough to level his canon threateningly at the air force to increase his paperwork load in the reckless endangerment department. He already had a stack over two feet and wasn't looking for a reason to add to it.

Searching around for his cell phone, the Major flipped it open and found his master sergeant, Robert Epps' extension before hitting dial.

"Yes, Major?" Epps answered after one ring.

"Bobby-boy! I need you to reinforce our quarantine zone around our big friends. Double the parameter to fifty feet and make it essential personnel only. I don't want the autobots being disturbed by gaping air force groupies. Especially Optimus and Ironhide." Lennox ordered crisply. He paused in thought for a second then added, "Mostly Ironhide."

"Understood. Consider it done." The sergeant stated. "Speaking of essential personnel, where the hell have you been?"

"I had a therapy session with Doctor Touchy-feely. He says I'm unstable and need more time with ink smudges and air balloons or some crap." Lennox grumbled. "Personally, I want that hour and a half of my life back."

"Ink smudges and air balloons?"

"Don't ask." Lennox looked down another passageway as he listened to the sound of Epps laughing at him. "Oh, shut up. You're next in line for the pointless cry session, so I wouldn't be giggling."

"Well, shit."

"That's what I said." Pausing in the middle of the metal corridor, the major looked back over his shoulder at basically same view he in front of him. "Hey, Bobby? How the hell do I find the exit?"

Sam Witwicky lay slumped over the lunch table as he half listened to Simmons and Leo duke it out in pure, ultra-nerd fashion over some issue concerning the movie Men in Black and it's relevancy to their current situation.

"Is there a special unit that deals with extra terrestrials like MIB?" Leo probed as he shoveled another forkful of spaghetti into is mouth.

Simmons leveled a deadpanned stare at the college student before sniffing importantly. "S7 had been. I'd imagine they've assembled another group to take up where we were forced to leave off."

"What about MIB HQ? Is like, area 51 your MIB headquarters?"

"Area 51 is just a testing facility for new weapons that the government wants to keep people like you, from posting all the countries' military secrets ONLINE for the world to see!" shaking a finger, Simmons continued to lecture. "Besides, those dopes in that movie were sloppy a good portion of the time."

"Like how!?! Since my dealings with aliens I KNOW it's harder than it looks!!" Leo snipped as he loaded his garlic bread up with sauce.

"Because an uncorrupted government wouldn't willingly allow aliens to run rampant all over the country. No matter how 'good' they say they are." the former sector seven operative stated bitterly.

Sam couldn't stand it anymore. "Simmons? They saved all our lives on more than ONE occasion. So stop whining would you!"

Simmons cocked his head in the Sams irritated direction. "And by the way, it's mostly your fault!" he accused murderously.

"How was the All Spark landing here on Earth, _my_ fault?" Sam grumped. "I wasn't part of the genius group to hide that cube as well as the most deadly alien robot ever to step foot on this planet from _our own military_!!"

"Wait, don't try and change the subject!" Leo argued, managing to include himself in on Simmons scowl.

Simmons leveled a frosty glare at both boys. "For the protection of the people of America and Earth, did we not release the presence of the spark and N.E.B 1s' existence to the public. We couldn't risk someone spilling that knowledge to the ignorant masses. It would have been a complete disaster! People panic if there's going to be a snow storm, for Christ's sake! Can you imagine what their reaction would have been to rumors that we are holding a giant, potentially _hostile_, alien robot captive?"

"The people have the right to know!" Leo declared as he jabbed a fork in Simmons direction.

Sam said nothing. He wasn't as idealistic as Leo apparently was in regards to what 'the people had the right' to know or not. On this issue, he agreed with the former S7 operative.

"Pfft! The 'people' are a giant pain in the freaking ass! No doubt there would be a media swarm, the demanding of questions answered, protests." Simmons returned to his mashed potatoes. "Hell, there probably would have been a couple of stupid hippy protestors demanding we release, or _protect,_ that crazy non-biologic. I wonder what the government is doing now in order to cover up this mess?" He mused out loud.

"You're still withholding people's rights! They were-" Sam interrupted his former roommate before he could finish.

"He's right, Leo." Sam stated quietly. "In this case, it was better the public didn't know."

"What!?" Leo snapped. He couldn't understand why Sam had flip-flopped to Simmons side!

"You forget that I was there when _you_ first encountered a Decepticon." Sam looked the annoyed computer wiz in the eye. "After the initial shock of seeing one wore off, you had several panic attacks for _days_. Imagine millions of people doing that all over the place!"

Leo snapped his jaw shut and swallowed all objections he had at the ready, a look of intense pain on his face at the mention of less than suave moments.

"So the kid has finally learned some subtlety." Simmons sounded surprised as he swirled a dollop of butter into his potatoes.

Sam sighed, and rested his head on his folded arms. Arguing with the former secret agent wasn't in the cards today; he was still too exhausted from Egypt to fight his side. Lucky for him, Mikaela sauntered up in time to hear Simmons last comment.

"Knock it off, Simmons. Sam restored some of your former 'glory' or whatever it was you said you'd lost since the last time we saw you. You should be thanking him!" Swinging only one leg over the bench seat next to Sam, Mikaela plopped down. "How are you feeling?" She asked softly, brushing his bangs away from his still marred face as he turned his head to the side so he could smile at her.

Her heart pulsed painfully as she took in his ragged appearance. His skin was a little more pail then the tanned color she was used to and flecked with dark splotchy bruises. He was sporting two very fetching bags under his eyes, and when he moved, it looked to be a real effort not to groan in discomfort. Still, she reasoned rationally to herself, it was better to have him alive, damaged and fixable, then lifelessly laying in the ships morgue.

Slamming that current thought to a sudden stop, Mikaela forced herself to focus on his quiet response. The 'what if' scenarios that raced around her head endlessly were better left until she was alone, or she'd be a crying mess in no time, and Sam didn't need to see that.

"I'm alright, just a little tired." He murmured to her reassuringly. "How's your side?" He asked as he sat up a little straighter and gazed at the right half of her body where she'd taken a pretty big fall after jumping off a roof to escape one of the Decepticons. He knew it to be rather painful, even if she never uttered a complaint.

"It's nothing compared to what happened to you." She brushed it off without a second thought. Leaning in, she snaked a hand around his bicep and leaned into his shoulder, never breaking eye contact. "You sure you're alright?"

"I'm a little sore and my left nut aches from where your forehead smashed it, but I'm fine other than that. Thank you for asking!" Leo interrupted from across the table.

Sam jerked back to reality at the snarky comment and watched Mikaela take a vicious swipe at Leo's laughing face.

"You smashed his nuts with your forehead…?" he asked bewilderedly as he stared down into Mikaela's fuming face.

"Sounds like trouble in paradise to me." Simmons deadpanned from behind his hot roast beef sandwich.

"Uggh, no way." Mikaela balked at the suggestion of her and Leo together in any way. Turning back to peep up at Sam, who was patiently waiting for an answer to his previous question, she reached out and grasped his bandaged right hand where it had been burned and fractured at the same time her apparent head butting incident had taken place. "When that geriatric autobot/decepticon what's-his-face did that…instant teleportation thing, I landed on Leos' crotch." She explained. "But don't be too put out, feel happy for him because it's probably the most action he's ever seen." She finished with a beady glare at Leo's protesting figure.

Simmons choked on his sandwich as he laughed while Sam turned his head away so Leo couldn't see his amused grin.

Before Leo could defend his wounded male pride, Major Lennox and Sergeant Epps blazed into the mess hall, bickering loud enough to for most of the room to glance in their direction. Catching Sam's eye, the two military men made straight for the college boy savior and his crew.

"Hey Major Lennox, Sgt. Epps" Sam greeted warmly to the two as they came within sensible hearing range in the crowed mess hall.

"Hey Wonder Boy, how's the body feeling?" Lennox grinned back. He liked the Witwicky brat. The kid had spunk and a truck load of courage that probably saved all their skins.

"I can't really complain." Sam stated as he stood shakily to his feet to grasp the two men's hands.

"Can't complain!? You were literally blasted to kingdom come and back and you 'can't complain!'" Epps laughed almost disbelievingly while eyeballing Sam's fatigue driven tremors with concern, "Shit, Billy-bob. You need to take a few lessons from Sammy here. You bitch if you have to go to therapy for an extra hour. Oh! Pardon my flowery French, ma'am." He finished to a giggling Mikaela.

Lennox rolled his eyes before letting them come to rest on Simmons and Leo across the table. "Leo Spitz, you're up next with Doc Touchy-feely in fifteen minutes. Get a move on." He ordered jerking his thumb behind him. "Simmons? You're after Spitz at fourteen hundred hours."

"Doc Touchy-feely…?" Sam wondered curiously as Leo, grumbling the entire time, rose to his feet.

"Some military issued psychologist that everyone from Egypt has to go see to get a mental check-up evaluation thing, or something." The Major flippantly explained. "A2 deck, room 96, Leo." He rattled off as the computer tech slouched past.

"Our esteemed Major here is still considered unstable according to a few finger paintings." Epps added, snickering at Lennoxs' expense. "He has another session tomorrow."

Lennox swore under his breath, "A complete freaking waste of time if you ask me."

"Ah, now it can't be that bad." Epps consoled his agitated comrade, "If General Morshower thinks it's necessary, than it probably is."

"Morshower isn't the one having to waste his time sitting on that stupid couch imagining things in nonsensical ink smears." Lennox remarked bringing a clip board he'd carried in with him up from his side to check some tidbit of information. "Miss Banes, you and Wonder boy here are up for a check-up tomorrow with the good Doc at one o'clock. Wonder Boy, I want you to go see the SMO for a full physical check-up after you see Doc Touchy-feely. He's expecting you, so there's no chance of wiggling out of it."

"Again? But I've seen him _four _times since we got here two days ago!" Sam argued. "I'm not about to keel over and die! I just need some rest."

"Sorry, Sammy. Ratchet issued those particular orders concerning your medical examinations." Epps smiled unapologetically to the outraged teen. "He's keeping a close sensor on your health, and we agree with him. A person doesn't just flat line for over five minutes and come back completely unscathed. Even Optimus was wiped and he's like Superman."

"But I'm _fine!_ I'm just really tired!" Sam tried futilely once more, knowing full well that come this time tomorrow, he'd be on that examination table, especially if Ratchet was eavesdropping on his personal health from somewhere and telling people about it.

Mikaela touched his arm and rubbed circles into the sore limb. Her small comforting attempt worked and Sam sagged, loosing what little steam he had built up. Sitting back down on the bench, he rested his face exhaustedly in his hands.

"Maybe you should go take a nap or something, kid." Simmons remarked from behind him. "You look beat." He might not totally adore the teen like everyone else, but he held a certain grudging respect for anyone who could go toe to toe with him in regards to those non-biologics lurking down in the cargo hold.

Sam just sighed before lifting his head back up. "Sounds like a good idea. But first I want to go see how Optimus and 'Bee are doing." Heaving himself painfully back to his feet, he turned to Mikaela and offered her his arm. "Care to join me?"

Mikaela shook her head regretfully, "I need to go call my dad. He called a few minutes ago in a fit and my phone died in the middle of his worried yelling. I was heading up to the communication's tower on the bridge to see if I could just use their phone." Lowering her voice a little to the Major and Sergeant didn't over hear her as they pestered Simmons. "Also so I don't have to pay for the call."

Sam chuckled softly to her as she rose up on her toes to peck his mouth with a kiss. "You little criminal." He teased.

"Stuff it, Witwicky." She crooned back, her eyes shifting from sultry to worry as she felt his trembling form under her hands. "Maybe I should go with you. Dad knows I'm alright. He just wants to vent his anger about being helpless to protect me. He can wait a bit longer."

Sam gently disentangled their hands, and stepped back from her, "Go call your dad, Mikaela. I'll be alright." At her disbelieving gaze, he stepped back in and kissed her forehead before whispering for her ears only, "I won't leave you again."

Her sky blue eyes became misty as she blinked rapidly to make the sting go away. She would not cry!

Sam then stated in a louder voice, "I'll be going back to my room for a nap after I visit the autobots. Come see me when you're through. I'll need rescuing if mom and dad are down there."

Lennox had been secretly spying on the exchange between the young couple and decided to ease Mikaela's worry some. "I'll go with you, Sam. I haven't had a chance to pop in and see how Big Blue's doing." Turning back to Epps who was preparing to hit up the lunch line for some grub "Get me the finalization form to the parameter change and personnel access to the cargo hold when you're finished, Sergeant. I want Wonder Boy and Miss Banes at the top of that list for full access." If he sounded more official, maybe Epps wouldn't slack off over the paper work, even if the order was already cycling the through the ranks.

"Sir, yes sir." Epps responded lazily before he meandered off in search of something to eat.

"Parameter changes…?" Mikaela voiced what Sam had been thinking.

Lowering his voice so only Sam, Mikaela and Simmons if he chose to, could hear his explanation. "I don't want the air force underlings sniffing around and disturbing the autobots, especially Optimus and Ironhide. All I need is for that big canon getting all vexed at someone and having a mountain of 'endangerment' paper work being dumped on my desk."

"A valid concern, Major." Simmons commented blandly halfway through his lemon custard.

The cargo hold was a monstrosity of a hanger that was utilized primarily to store the jets that weren't being used. The Captain of the U.S.S. George H. W. Bush (CVN-77) had been gracious enough to move nearly all the jets to the landing deck, therefore grounding all departing and in bound craft.

The large side doors where the giant elevators that lifted and shuffled the jets about from the cargo hold to the landing deck, where left wide open so the gusty sea breeze could blow through the belly of the ship while simultaneously giving Ironhide ample view of the sky's incase of a sneak attack.

The autobots were spread out all over the place when Sam and Major Lennox emerged from the elevators. To Sam, it truly looked like a truck-stop of really expensive vehicles of all makes and models. Ironhide was slowly making rounds in his gleaming black Topkick form, while Bumblebee's Camaro and the twins' Trax and Beat were parked at one of the giant bay doors 'staring' out at the Indian Ocean.

The other autobots were scattered about but Sam forgot about them and zeroed in on Optimus and Ratchet as soon as he located the Big Rig and the smaller rescue Hummer sitting quietly towards the center of giant hanger.

Setting off at a brisk, if not wobbly walk towards the two large vehicles with Lennox on his heals, Sams' gaze scoured the Peterbilts' unusual decals; taking in the jagged holes that ripped the platting and the dents the pock marked the hood and sides. Sam cringed as he once again perused the cracked windshield and twisted exhaust stacks.

Stumbling to an unsteady stop, Sam huffed like he'd run up a flight of stairs, and as he moved closer, the two trucks swam in his vision. Closing his eyes to try and ground himself, he opened them just in time to see that Optimus had moved from twenty feet back, to just in front of him. When did he do that?

Surprised sucked Sam's breathe from his lungs as he used the Rigs' grill to steady himself against. "Optimus…how are…you doing?" He panted, closing his eyes to keep them from swirling and tossing everything around him about. He felt ill and achy, and was pretty sure he'd broken out in a sweat. To make the moment even more embarrassing, he couldn't seem to get enough air. Was he that out of shape?

"I should be asking you that question, Sam. You are not well." The deep basso of Optimus Prime's impressive voice rumbled worriedly over him.

"I'm okay, Optimus. Just a little on the fritz." Sam wheezed up to the large truck.

Ratchet was before Sam in a second, tracing him with both red and green laser beams. "I swear to Primus, Samuel, you are testing my patience with your reckless behavior!" He growled threateningly as he eyed Sams' stats as they uploaded.

"Sorry." Sam wheezed, from his slouched position on Optimus' front bumper plate.

"Aw, lay off Ratchet." Lennox spoke up as he slipped an arm around the teenaged boy to help steady him on his feet.

Revving his engine in what both humans took to be an expression of agitation, Ratchet cussed in Cybertronian like a champion before popping a side compartment open. "Your spark was mildly damaged and is therefore, tender." Lurching to the side on his great shocks, a small, white bottle fell from the open compartment only to be swatted towards the guys by the closing door. "Take two and get some rest before I put you out of your misery myself." The healer ordered.

"Yes doctor." Sam mumbled, embarrassedly.

Optimus rumbled comfortingly behind the downtrodden teen which caused Sam to look back up at the trucks' cracked windshield. Even though he couldn't see any sign of it, Sam had the distinct feeling that Optimus was getting the exact same treatment from their local medic as he was. Apparently even the leader of the autobots wasn't immune from the prickly doctors' anger.

Ratchet was still grouching under his breath at the stupidity of everyone around him in regards to their state of health (or lack there of in Sam and Optimus' case) as he rolled off to check on the status of the Triplet motorcycles: Arcee, Chromia and Moonstreaker, who had been heavily damaged by Megatron.

"Poor 'bot is going to have gray hairs and wrinkles if he doesn't loosen up." Lennox remarked before turning back to hail jovially up at Optimus. "So, Big Blue, how are you feeling?"

"Doing as well as expected. As you can see, I'm in excellent, if not diplomatic, hands." The autobot leader stated, gently ribbing on Ratchets' control freak personality. "I just came out of stasis not more than an hour ago."

Sam reached out and lightly touched a jagged tear in the decorative grill of the truck. "Will this…heal?" He asked. It seemed like a crime to see a great heroic personality like Optimus Prime in such a pitiful state.

The truck shifted its weight slowly from tire to tire, "Some of it will. Our metal and internal systems have remarkable healing and regenerative capabilities." The big engine under the dented hood goosed a little, almost like a cough.

"Well whatever you can't patch up yourself, Ratchet and I will find a way to get you back to your pretty little self." Lennox offered optimistically. He knew the autobots took great care of their appearance in their alternate vehicle modes as soldiers did in their dress uniforms. They had the parts back at Diego Garcia, and if the autobots needed special supplies, than by God Lennox would get it for them.

Sam starred gloomily at his own battered reflection in the dull metal before him. "Do not trouble yourself with my outward appearance, Sam. Thanks to you, I'm lucky to even be here." Optimus cajoled the troubled teen.

"_Failure wasn't an option!"_ an unfamiliar voice announced from behind Sam and Lennox. Turning slightly, Sams' camaro was parked in such a way that the front grill gave the impression of a cheesy grin. _"No problem."_ A woman's voice this time, barked from the yellow vehicle.

Sams' face split into a large smile as he hobbled over to greet his guardian. "Hey, 'Bee." Patting the hood like an old friend, Sam felt a mild charge under his fingers that left his hand feeling tingly; an autobot 'hug' Mikaela had called it. "How are you doing?"

An electrical sounding whine coupled with a rocking motion gave the impression of dancing- normal, happy, healthy Bumblebee behavior if his antics were ever to be cataloged.

"Glad to hear it." Sam laughed, as the Tom Petty's "_I won't back down_' blasted from the camaros' speakers.

"Those are some pretty wicked moves, 'Bee. Maybe you could teach Epps how to dance so next time we all aren't tortured watching him when he tries too." Lennox suggested, snickering good naturedly as the camaros' tailgate popped back and forth saucily.

"Bumblebee! Stop that this instant before you rupture your _**NEWLY REPARED**_ rear energon lines or I'll pop your tires!" the unmistakable bellow of Ratchet across the hanger had 'Bee flattening himself to the floor.

"What's got the Hatchets' hydraulics in such a twist?" The massive form of Ironhides' Topkick asked as he rolled up next to the still pan caked camaro.

"Mildly damaged robots doing things other than sitting still and quietly recuperating." Lennox answered as Optimus gave a muted chuckle so as to not alert the furious medic to his mirth, less it bring the others' wrath down upon his head.

"So what else is new with that glitched medical menace?" Ironhide had barely enough time to transform and dodge the large wrench that was flung at him. "You wanna go?!" And with that, Ironhide launched himself across the hanger towards the waiting transformed medic.

Lennox laughed as Optimus released a great sigh from his vents. "You'd never guess that they were anything but sparklings by the way they act sometimes."

"I would think you wouldn't want to pick a fight with the only guy who can fix you and knows your insides better than you do." Lennox watched as Ironhide attempted to put Ratchet in a head lock, only to be kicked in the aft for all his trouble.

Sam felt the concrete floor under his feet tremble slightly as the two big mechs shoved and pulled each other about the hanger with autobots scattering to get out of their way.

"Shouldn't we attempt to separate them?" He asked leaning back against Bumblebees side door. He was exhausted just watching them.

"Nah, let them tussle it out." Lennox waved a hand in front of his face, as if swatting away an imaginary fly. "Clears bad blood."

"Ratchet has been under a lot of stress lately with all of us injured and in need of medical supervision. He takes his responsibilities very seriously and considers it a personal offense when we are damaged in combat. Ironhide usually volunteers to help Ratchet let off steam, much to the latter's chagrin I'd imagine." Optimus explained as Ratchet tackled Ironhide around the waste. The unexpected sound of the weapon specialist laughing seemed to relax Sam's tense muscles.

The loud echoing beep of the intercom went near unnoticed in the fray, but the blaring voice of _the_ Captain of the Air Force demanding an explanation had Lennox dashing feverishly towards the elevators' intercom system, in hopes that the distance would dampen the sounds of fighting (and the colorful swear words being spouted off by both warriors.)

Sam once again resumed his shaky position on his feet, patted 'Bee one more time and said his good byes with a promise to stop by later.

"Get some rest, Sam." Optimus ordered kindly to the boy.

Bumblebee clicked and hooted in agreement before following Sam to the elevator doors to see him off.

"I'll be back, 'Bee." Sam said as the doors closed on the yellow camaro.

The walk to his quarters had drained Sam to the point where he could barely lift his feet. He desperately needed a nap, and hoped, albeit guiltily, that his parents weren't waiting to coddle him.

They'd been terrified back in Egypt, when Sam had demanded for them to let him go, to let him finish what he'd started. They'd fought him as he pulled away, his father insisting that they all leave together, and his mother pleading with his father to trust him.

He heard their screaming as he was lifted of his feat by an explosion. Darkness left him with the image of their horrified faces burned into his memory.

When he'd stumbled back to them and a sobbing Mikaela as Optimus left to engage the Fallen in battle, they'd latched onto him in silent disbelief that he was alive. He'd felt a deep regret at having worried all of them lodge itself in his heart. Making them angry was okay. Worrying them was not, but unfortunately, it was unavoidable now that it had been revealed that he was destined to aid the Autobot's cause all along.

His father had yelled and cried; his mother had been mostly silent as she sobbed into his shirt. "No sacrifice, no victory, dad. I have to do this." He pleaded with them to understand his decision, to support him.

In the end, they'd relented only because Optimus, 'Bee, Ratchet and Ironhide had each stepped up and swore to his parents that they'd protect him. He was considered one of their own, with the only difference being he wore no autobot insignia (though Ironhide had offered to burn one onto his forehead for him.)

Sam sincerely hoped he was kidding.

Turning the last corner that led him down the hallway to his quarters, Sam slowed as he listened for any sign of his parents lurking near by. Coming to his tiny cabin, he still heard nothing so he opened the door to peak in and found, to his quiet relief, that his parents weren't camped out his bed waiting for him.

Slipping in and shutting the door behind him with a near silent click, he shimmied out of his loaned military trousers and pulled his shirt over his head. Dropping it to the floor with his pants, Sam pulled a pair of sweat pants out from the small stack of borrowed clothing on his desk. Dry swallowing two of the pills that Ratchet had flung at him, he hit the lights, climbed into his cot-like bed, and crunched the pillow up under his head.

Letting out a relieved sigh, the last thing he remembered was Mikaela slipping in to join him before he dropped off into welcomed darkness with her snuggled up against his side.


	2. Chapter 2

I'm not a writer really. I love reading and like doing art. But writing is something I kinda blow at. So there is going to be lots of mistakes in my stories that I just plain miss. I'd apologize but it's a measure of my charm!

I own jack.

**True Moxy!**

**Girls**

With a jerk, Sam snapped awake while simultaneously banging his battered hand against the desk corner next to his bed. Hissing at the pain, he tried to roll gently off the bed so as to not jostle the still sleeping Mikaela, and crouched stiffly on the floor to wait for the sting to go away. Looking down at the still crisp wrappings not yet frayed by the day, Sam hesitantly flexed his fingers making the tips that stuck from the top of the bandage wiggle slightly. The answering ache halted his self examination; his fingers were still too tender to be messed with unnecessarily. He couldn't tell from the darkness of his cabin, but he new the visible skin was blotchy with bruises still dark and angry from several days ago.

Looking blindly back towards Mikaela's form in the near blackness, he listened to her slow even breathing as he stood to his feet. Feelingly for the door knob behind him, Sam edged the metal door open, spilling a stream of light from the hallway across the sleeping girls' form. Slipping out, he shut the door as quietly as he could behind him and sighed.

If she were to catch him out of bed, she'd have a complete fit. Normally he'd bend over backwards to escape her worry induced wrath, but he couldn't stand being cooped up in that bed anymore. He needed to just take a quick walk to stretch his legs and get some fresh air, or he'd go nuts!

Turing to leave, he became aware of how cold his toes were and glanced down at his bare feet sticking out from under his baggy, sleeping sweat pants. Throwing a look at the closed door, he decided against opening it again to retrieve his shoes. Let sleeping dragons lie, literally. Snickering at how close to the truth that thought was, Sam padded off down the hallway, listening for anyone who might catch him and tattle on him.

He was ordered strict bed rest after having passed out and consequently banging his head in front of practically the world. Okay, so maybe Simmons, Leo, his dad and a few air force guys weren't the 'world' exactly, but they sure as hell practically told enough people for it to be.

He didn't know what was wrong with him, but the dizzy spell passed and he woke up to the SMO's icy stethoscope pressed to his flesh, his mother's worried frown hovering over him, and all the guys in the background quietly watching him.

Sam had a nasty habit of making a spectacle of himself at the most un-cool of times.

After being hauled bodily down to the med bay by his parents and the SMO, they were joined shortly by a concerned Mikaela and Leo who had just come from a visit with the autobot's. So of course, three of them 'showed up' by way of their hologram counter parts. A new experience for all of them, Optimus and Ratchet's holograms were normal enough, stately older guys with a beard and a few wrinkles between them, but 'Bee had decided that this was a situation that demanded a specialist.

So there in the examination chair Sam slouched as the medical bay's head doctor checked him over for the sixth, _sixth,_ freaking time since stepping foot on this boat, as Hugh Laurie's infamous Doctor House glowered from his crooked stance not more than three feet off, spouting random quoted diagnosis and wisdom from the show at him.

_"Read less, more TV." _

"I love that show!" the SMO's brightened substantially after having spent that last several minutes intently scrutinizing Sam's state of health, while being intently scrutinized by the odd holograms himself. "If only medical professionals could be as free with the lip as that and not get fired…or sued."

"_Never trust doctors."_

Sam sighed dejectedly as his mother demanded answers from the staff of the med bay over his condition in between 'Bee's random outbursts. He needed a vacation. Never in his life had he ever been this popular, and now that he was, he wanted that anonymous face in the crowd thing back.

Cringing in shame at that thought, Sam reminded himself that all these people cared and that he should be thankful.

_"Welcome to the world. Everyone's different, everyone gets treated different. You try fighting that, you end up dying of TB."_

He needed to rethink that last thought.

"There's no new head trauma except some minor bruising, other than that, he's fine from what I can physically tell, if not still somewhat fatigued." The SMO soothed as he flashed a light in Sam's left eye. "Have you been sleeping well, son?"

_"If her DNA was off by one percentage point she'd be a dolphin."_

"Uh…I guess." He answered somewhat automatically after that last sound bite threw his thought process off.

"You guess?" the doctor prodded gently as he set to work blinding Sam's other retina with the little light.

_"If it works, we're right. If he dies, it was something else."_

Opening his mouth to reaffirm his statement, Mikaela cleared her throat rather significantly and Sam changed his mind at the last second for the honest truth. "I've been…in some slight pain and it keeps me up a lot." He mumbled to his battered sneakers feeling stupid for admitting that.

The head doctor gazed at him in a way that made Sam feel as if he were being scolded like a toddler, and shook his head.

"I didn't want to sound like I was complaining" He defended himself.

_"I've found that when you want to know the truth about someone that someone is probably the last person you should ask." _

"Thanks a lot there, 'Bee." Sam grumped while throwing a look at the snarky TV doctor.

So after several lectures by several people on why it's _critical_ he tell them if something is wrong, _regardless_ of how insignificant it may seem, Sam was sent to bed with a whole serving of pills to take on top of the heart meds Ratchet had originally tossed at him- SMO and Ratchet's strict orders.

To add insult to injury, they sicced Mikaela on him so he couldn't try and weasel out of it with Leo's assistance.

That was nearly two days ago.

He needed some time to breathe before they docked at Diego Garcia, and from there, sent home.

Home.

It seemed like forever ago that he was there. He was at school when all this havoc had broken out. His shoulders sagged at the thought. He wondered if he was kicked out of school for his little spectacle in the astronomy class…or with the dorm explosion…and the library demolition…not to mention that universal bounty on his head for the sake of the planet. How many people were hurt during all that he found himself wondering more than once. He didn't even want to touch a television or radio for fear of hearing the global death toll rise again. He didn't want to examine those thoughts at all because for some reason, he felt like it was some how partially his fault

School attendance seemed so insignificant now.

Looking up, he found himself in the main hallway that led down to the cargo hold. Ratchet would pop a piston if he found Sam up. What time was it anyway?

He'd seen no one so far, which means it had to be late evening or early morning and the carrier was down to a skeleton crew. Pausing in the middle of the corridor, bare feet starting to freeze from the chilled metal decking, Sam made up his mind and meandered towards the cargo hold. 'Bee would be happy to see him since they hadn't seen each other for a few days and maybe ol' Hatchet wouldn't care…or at least be in a forgiving mood.

Slinking along the wall, Sam paused at the foot of the stairwell that led straight to the only legal access door to the massive hold. The two guards on duty would probably not hassle him…unless somebody had said something to them. Taking a deep breath, Sam skipped down the stairs and flashed a grin to the bored looking guards that were playing a game of cards on the floor. "Hey guys, you mind if I go through?"

"Yeah sure, kid." One of them mumbled as he focused on his hand, barely giving Sam a passing glance.

Sam snuck between them and opened the door before sneaking in a small thanks and shutting it behind him. Turing back around, Sam came to a stumbling stop, the small grin sliding from his face.

The hangar was dimly lit, but the massive vehicles that littered the place were all quietly lined up in a few rows in the very center. They were sleeping…or in stasis or whatever it was they called it when they slept. Suddenly unsure of himself, Sam stood awkwardly in place as his mind ran in circles trying to figure out what to do. He never even thought about the 'bots needing to sleep at night and he didn't want to disturb them just because he was sick of sleep.

Picking out Bumblebee's chrome yellow camaro towards the side of the group, Sam figured his best friend wouldn't mind in the least if Sam were to join him. He didn't want to go back to his cabin yet, even though Mikaela was there, he needed a little fresh air. But standing bare foot in the cargo hold with the scratchy concrete under his feet and the cool sea breeze blowing through, Sam made up his mind and jogged quietly towards the yellow autobot.

Coming to a huffing stop near the drivers' side door, Sam quickly popped the door open and gently shut it behind him. Resting back against the leather-like material of his seat, Sam caught his breath for a moment while he savored the welcoming silence of 'Bee's interior.

A soft whine snagged Sam's attention between his labored breathing, and he reached out to pat the dash board. "Sorry to wake you, 'Bee."

The center council lit up in greeting and soft music started to play. _'Well howdy you do…' _Before clicking over to a sound bite with a woman gently asking if he was alright.

Sam snickered at the girlish voice. In his mind, Bumblebee was a He, even though the autobots explained that they don't have genders like humans do. "I'm fine 'Bee, I just needed to get out of bed before I lost my mind."

'Bee cooed back at him before he felt the seat belt snake over him and squeeze like a hug. _'Everything, everything will be just fine. Everything, everything will be all right! All right…'_

Sam had the coolest car, he really did. "Do you mind if I hang out here with you 'Bee?"

A few clicks and a whirring whine later, Sam's seat shot backwards and Sam found himself starring up at the car's ceiling. Shifting to get more comfortable, Sam stretched, his feet pushing against the door and plush carpet. When his chilled foot brushed against 'Bee's door again, the car shook slightly before kicking the floor vent on and blowing a gentle breeze of warm air onto Sam's frozen toes.

"Thanks 'Bee." Sam gave an embarrassed chuckle, before snuggling down in his seat, still mindful of his tender back, hand and legs. The radio was now a soft melody as background noise and Sam felt his eye's start to droop. Maybe he was a little more out of it than he thought. He didn't even remember what if felt like to not be tired and exhausted all the time.

Lying there, warm and comfortable in 'Bee's front seat, Sam felt the weight of the world and his soon to be not so distant problems slip away. Here he was just a boy, and his super cool alien robot car. Grinning stupidly, he let his last thoughts bleed away and he fell into the restful sleep he should have been trying to get all along with 'Bee watching over him.

* * *

Mikaela was not amused.

Sam had left her sometime during the night, leaving no note, or message in her phone as to where he slunk off to. He wasn't supposed to be up wandering the halls, without letting someone know.

Storming down the corridor, she took a small ounce of satisfaction at having fully grown, battle hardened soldiers scurry from her path. Hell hath no furry like a woman scorned, and Mikaela was a poster girl for that saying at this moment in time.

Sam wasn't a baby. He wasn't a little child that needed to be looked after and taken care of, but he was still tender from his near death escapades and she was still exceedingly fragile from watching them. He was hers and he needed to remember that. He knew she was worried and it irked her to no end that he didn't bother to wake her up and let her know where he was going! Granted, her rational side told her that he probably didn't want to disturb her sleep and while that was kind of him, he should know better!

Spotting Leo up ahead meandering towards the mess hall for a last bit of breakfast before they reached the base, Mikaela sped up to catch him. "Leo!"

Turning to glance in her direction with a ready smile, his eye's widened and he stepped back as she marched herself up into his face. "Where's Sam?"

"Uh, I haven't seen him this morning." He sputtered. When her eye's narrowed, his widened a little more and he put his hands up in a peaceful gesture that she completely ignored. "Honestly, I haven't seen him! Nor have I tried to help hide him or assist him in escaping in anyway!" He babbled in an effort to save himself from her potential wrath. He'd only met her a few days ago, but she wasn't someone he wanted to tangle with. Sam was in for it when she caught up to him, Leo was sure. He felt a little bad for the guy.

Seeing that Leo was telling the truth, she stepped back and sighed in frustration. Ratchet wouldn't have allowed Sam to hangout down in the cargo hanger willingly so that area might be out in places he could be. She already checked both the rec. room, and med bay. Maybe he was in the mess hall.

Whirling towards the eatery, her hair whipped Leo in the face on accident causing him to squawk in protest. "Sorry, Leo." She shot unapologetically over her shoulder as she pushed through the crowds.

"Poor guy." Leo muttered while he moved to follow Mikaela. This would probably prove interesting to watch and he had no intention of missing Sam's public execution by angry girlfriend. What were friends for after all?

Blazing into the hall, Mikaela glared around the room for her wayward Sam, and came up empty handed. He wasn't here. Slowly, she reviewed the people to see if she maybe missed him, or to see if he was hiding behind someone. Still no Sam, but Epps and Lennox were giggling with the other macho guys at their table. Since they weren't likely targets to help Sam escape from a set of direct orders, they probably wouldn't know where he was.

No harm asking though.

Sliding up to their table, Mikaela ignored the appreciative glances of the testosterone packed male populous and set herself squarely in Epps' line of sight. He did a double take at her before exchanging glances with Graham and Lennox before meeting her angry stare again. "What's up, Miss Banes, Leo?"

"Have you seen Sam?" She asked as politely as she could through her teeth. This was starting to get to her. She needed to calm down.

"We haven't seen him since last night at dinner." Epps responded with a curious look. "He's still on bed rest and relaxation or something isn't he?"

Not the best thing to ask her at the moment. "Yes." She bit off before closing her eyes for a second to pray for patience. "If you see him, tell him I'm looking for him." With that, she spun back around, grabbed Leo's shirt and dragged him off with her to continue her search.

The table let out a collective breath they hadn't realized they'd been holding while Graham let out a low whistle. "That boyo is in the dog house big time."

Nodding sagely, Lennox and Epps could only agree with him. Poor Sam didn't know what was coming.

After a checking the flight deck, the staff lounge and the running into his parents up on the bridge, who like everyone else, had no idea where their son was, Mikaela was about ready to pop. Leo was looking a little worse for wear since she'd bodily dragged him behind her up and down the air craft carrier. "Maybe he's in the cargo bay." He suggested wearily for the second time.

"Ratchet wouldn't let him be hanging around down there if he's supposed to be resting on Ratchet's own specific _orders._" Mikaela huffed. But even as she said it, there really wasn't another place that Sam would likely be. The carrier had like, thirty plus levels and none of the civilians didn't bother going below the cargo bay.

Pausing for a second longer, she twisted back around the throngs of people towards the main corridor of the ship that led to the hold. Leo sighed in relief once he figured he was off the Sam hunt. That was before Mikaela slinked back and grabbed his collar. "Stop dawdling, Leo." She chastised him like a kid before continuing her mission down the decks into the massive hanger.

* * *

Optimus watched in quiet fascination as the human female, Mikaela, blasted into the holding bay with a whimpering Leo being dragged behind her. His sensory bank told him that her blood pressure and body temperature were high for this particular female- she was angry. Not uncommon, but usually with good reason he noticed this about her.

Spotting the yellow camaro parked innocently alongside the giant rig, Mikaela released Leo who scurried back through the doors, and made straight for Bumblebee. What had the young sparkling done now?

Coming to a agitated stop, Mikaela caught sight of something about the yellow sports car and the anger in her body language melted back to the unassuming state it normally held. She ghosted along to the passenger side of the camaro, opened the door and got in. Ah, yes, Sam.

She was looking for the boy. But why the show of anger he wondered? Sam had done nothing that he was aware of to prompt such a display from his human companion.

Thinking back, Sam had slipped in here last night when he should have been in stasis back in his lodgings like Ratchet and the human doctor had requested. Ratchet had been ready to tell Sam off last night when he'd shown up, but sensing something off, Optimus had quietly requested that Ratchet say nothing. Sam seemed to be searching for something, like an escape, and there was no harm in letting the boy sit in with Bumblebee here in the bay. He could continue his stasis recharge and Ratchet could monitor him all he wanted from close proximity without actually disturbing the child.

Sam probably had not alerted Mikaela to let her know where he was and she was not happy about that.

Plausible Explanation.

Discreetly scanning the camaros' two occupants, Optimus watched as the stats on the two human children uploaded- Sam was coming slowly out of stasis at her request. That was probably for the best, they would be landing back at the Base in less than thirty Earth minutes, standard time.

A spike on his sensors cued Optimus in on the fact that Mikaela was upset again, and Sam was starting to panic. Odd.

The doors to the camaro open and Optimus was able to hear the children's disagreement without tapping into Bumblebee.

"-get why you're so mad." Sam uttered as he stepped out of the car.

"Oh, that's just so like you, Samuel! You try and brush this stuff off so we don't fight, but this isn't something I'm taking lightly!" Mikaela snapped as she slammed the passenger side door causing Optimus to virtually wince for Bumblebee. A useless expression but one that was picked up from the earthlings as an addicting habit.

"I said I was sorry! I just didn't want to wake you, what more do you want from me as an explanation." Sam defended himself, albeit weakly. "I just needed to stretch my legs is all."

"You aren't well yet! What if something happened on your way down here?" Mikaela fumed as she shoved herself in his face; a dominant gesture that had Sam cowering, even though he stood a good half a foot taller. This female was at the top of the pecking order and both she and Sam knew it.

"But nothing happened. I came down here and sat with 'Bee! Just for a little something different. I was going crazy up there and wanted something new to look at."

Wrong thing to say, Optimus silently noted.

"OH! So I'm old and boring now is that it? You're sick of being around me? Fine Witwicky, I can take a hint!" Mikaela barked incensed at him before snapping around and storming for the door.

"Wha-!" Sam gawked at her retreating form at a total loss. "Oh no, this isn't over." Hobbling after her, Sam grasped her arm and spun her about so she was trapped in his grip.

Their argument continued as Sam snuggled a still fuming Mikaela who struggled half-heartedly in his shaky grasp. "Sam you are unbelievable."

"But you love me anyway." He nuzzled her neck and she huffed in anger, a smile cracking her angry façade while he couldn't see her face.

So they weren't really angry at each other? Humans were a strange race.

"Huh, what do you know." A voice from beside the big blue tuck had Optimus starting slightly at having been snuck up on.

Lennox leaned against the front side of the rig as he observed the two squabbling teens. "The boy is rather good at saving his own butt every now and then too." Snickering at something completely lost on Optimus, the Major turned to glance up at the truck. "He's going to need that sixth sense a lot with her, I can already tell."

Deciding to ask for clarification on the subject matter. "She wasn't really angry than?"

"Naw, she was just worried." Lennox brushed it off like nothing. "Women do that. They get worried about stuff and nag, or pester us to let us know they aren't happy. That's a way they let us know they care."

"Females knowingly start battles to show their affection?" Optimus reworded the statement to see if he understood that backwards reasoning.

"Basically. There's a saying here: All's fair in Love and War." Lennox affirmed as he lifted his every present clip board to check a random fact.

Optimus rechecked that on the internet to see exactly what the Major was talking about. "Is this a common phenomenon in human…courtship?" Ironhide asked as he rolled up beside Optimus, having watched the same display and was apparently as lost as the autobot leader was.

"Only in worth while relationships it seems. My wife about killed me herself when I got home from Qatar last time." Lennox expounded absentmindedly as he wrote some tidbit down. "Then she cried and made my favorite meal." He made this sound like an exceedingly common occurrence.

"You really need to work on your delivery, Casanova." Epps snickered as he rounded the other side of large Topkick.

"No sense getting mushy about it now. That's not something a beef eating man like myself does," Lennox grumped.

"Males put up with this kind of treatment. Willingly?" for some reason, that rankled with the big cannon wheeling 'bot.

The Major and Sergeant exchanged looks before glancing back at the autobots. "Not only willingly, if the mans smart, the lady is always right. Even is she's wrong, she's right." Epps outlined the entire successful male and female long-term relationship fiasco down to two simple sentences.

Optimus and Ironhide exchanged perturbed connections at that flawed statement.

Sensing their confusion, Lennox chuckled, "Sounds bizarre, but it keeps things flowing. Sam's ahead of the curve in comparison to the rest of the male population his age and a good portion above."

"Trust Billy here, he knows from experience." Epps laughed at the Major's expense. "Just how many times were you in deep shit and shoveling fast with Lena?"

Pausing to think about it, Lennox shook his head, "I didn't figure that out until the second year of marriage. We'd been together nearly four years by then."

Epps kept laughing even as Lennox tackled him.

Humans were strange indeed.

* * *

AN~ I love curious tough guys on mattes of girls. LOL oh Ironhide.


	3. Chapter 3

Guys...I'm so sorry. I have to explain= I wanted to see where the third movie was going with the story line and if I could incorporate it into True Moxy!...I can't. I tried. I rewrote and rewrote and gave up. I can't let go of Mikaela as Sam's girl...even if Meg is a big mouthed dumbass. So...i've gone back to the original. Again, I'm not a writer by trade.

**There are mistakes, try to ignore them.** I'm**_ sick_ **of this chapter sitting idle in my file so I'm throwing it out to you for consumption.

**True Moxy!**

**Who is protecting whom?**

Diego Garcia was a pint sized, pancake flat, island located in the southern seas of the Indian Ocean. A place crawling with acronym stamped U.S. Aircraft, ships, and the occasional submarine, Diego Garcia was the N.E.S.T. team launch pad that doubled up as Autobot secondary headquarters. Only essential personnel were allowed free run of the place, which basically included all of the one Non-Biologics Special Operations Unit and them alone when the big mechs were actually present. Coming and going units were kept as segregated as possible from the Autobots when they were on the island for safety reasons. Most people do not handle the presence of thirty foot tall, sentient beings from other worlds very well. That and the U.S. government had not initially wanted to openly admit to N.E.S.T. and Autobot existence.

Well the cat was out of the bag now.

The aircraft carrier from Egypt slowly made berth along one of the only deep docks that could handle the massive ship. Men were scurrying about unloading various bits of equipment and crates full of who knew what, while the only other large 'cargo' unloaded themselves. Optimus Prime was still in questionable condition and had to be propped up on a vehicle slate to be pulled out gently. Ratchet had appointed himself overseer of this process, much to the dismay of everyone present, including the Autobot leader.

"Seeing that big truck mucked up so bloody bad is quite a real shame." Graham commented to Epps as he watched several dozen men and Ironhide pull the trashed Peterbilt down the dock ramp toward their special hangar. The United Kingdom's Special Forces agent was totally blown away by the giant mechs, and after the shock of seeing them wore off, like all the men everywhere it seemed, was instantly taken with the big alien machines. Only a man could swoon over pieces of animated machinery that were equipped with an impressive array of weaponry that glowed and created instant gratification in the demolition department.

"Ratchet said it'd take a few weeks for him to fully recover." Epps rattled off like a mantra the words spoken days ago to them. Just because it seemed like written law of the Universe that Optimus be better now, didn't mean he would be. "He took some major damage; we all did."

There in the blaring tropical sunlight, was a grudging reminder of the recent battle. Besides Optimus' obvious distressed state, Ironhide and Ratchet both had major dents and ripped metal plating. The black paint of Ironhide's Topkick was nearly completely scraped off on one side, and the tailgate door was missing. The Arcee triplets were worse for wear as well, one of them- Epps wasn't sure which as he could never seem to keep their names straight- was virtually a pile of scrap; completely unrecognizable as the bike she was supposed to be. And it just went on and on. Several fine men had been killed and many more injured. The casualties had been unloaded first and were already on flights home to their loved ones.

"The Feds are going to go ape shit over this." He finally commented into the silence between them. Epps was so sick of the pencil pushers sticking their novice noses into every nook and cranny, just looking for a way to harass the armed forces more and more.

"Morshower was already working the angles last time I checked in on the bridge." Graham mumbled as he watched the chrome yellow camaro of Bumblebee transform in order to pull apart the constantly squabbling twins, who couldn't even manage to make it down the dock ramp without starting something. "The suits were already looking for 'goats' to sacrifice to the bloody public. Morshower politely told them to piss off I imagine."

Epps sighed in frustration "I hate politics."

"No kidding, mate. Double edged sword, they are. Can't do nuthin' it seems like without enraging some busy body with an agenda." Graham bobbed his head in agreement. Everyone seemed to be a Monday morning quarterback in matters of conflict. After the decisions had been made and the consequences already trickling down, some smart ass politician had to stand up and hassle the guys that were just following the orders that were originally demanded on by that same smartass not more than two weeks prior.

"Hey Bobby! Graham! What is this, a tea party?" bellowed the unmistakable voice of the Major across the docks. "Get over here, ladies, your assistance would be much appreciated!"

"You scheduled for leave soon?" Epps asked, ignoring the jeering hollers and whistling from the rest of the men working alongside the Major, as they meandered over.

"Leaving today actually. Figured I stick around here a few hours more before going home for a lil' R'n'R." Graham grinned at the thought. "Let you boys handle this mess on your own while I spend my time fishing on a quiet lake somewhere and kicking back a cold pint or three."

"Graham, you fish? And here I thought all you English types played polo, watched soccer for kicks and guzzled tea like it was going out of fashion." Lennox intoned as he tightened the tie-down clamps on a Humvee laden slate.

"Soccer!" Graham squawked, deeply insulted for his country's national past-time, "It's called football, you barbaric American hick!"

Lennox opened his mouth to argue, but was distracted by Stevie, the base's main communications operator, who was sprinting up the ramp straight for the group. Pausing to snap off a crisp salute, Stevie puffed out a solid "Major Lennox, sir!"

Stalled in his verbal assault on Graham, Lennox straightened after seeing the somewhat nervous look on the normally easy going man's face, "At ease, corporal. What seems to be the issue?"

"The Commander and Chief, his Secretary of State, and General Morshower are on the line for you, sir." Stevie rattled off hurriedly between puffs of breath. He must have run from the other side of the island.

"The who?" Epps choked, not believing his ears.

"What the devil could the first two want with you?" Graham asked in a wary voice.

"Dunno, but I best not keep them waiting." Lennox hoped off the Humvee rack, and hit the ground running with the still panting corporal at his heals.

Trading apprehensive looks with the rest of the guys, Epps grunted to the group at large. "How much you wanna bet this isn't a congratulatory phone call?"

The low whirring of Ironhide's favorite canon was music to his processors after having spent the entire trip back unable to work on the damaged weapon. This was the last time he allowed that flying glitch, Starscream, to get that close to him ever again. Granted, he practically blasted the seeker into next week, galactic time, even though the coward had managed to disabled the big gun by ripping the energon line and cracking the revolving plates in a sneak attack. Ironhide took it as professional pride to have intact weaponry at the culmination of a skirmish, and was deeply irritated that a Decepticon had pulled a fast one on him, of all Autobots.

He's just lucky Ironhide's attention was split between several other opponents at once, or Starscream would have been scrap in five seconds flat for just grazing the paint.

Resting a large metal webbbed hand against the repaired canon and just feeling the radiating heat was like coming home for the weapon's specialist. Without the proper tools, Ratchet was only able to reattach the vital energon line and mend the torn outer shell. Serious interior surgery for his canons was something Ironhide did himself. It wasn't that he didn't trust Ratchet's quality of work, but the medic never spent the extra time re-tweaking everything up to Ironhide's insanely high standards of precision and expectation.

If you wanted your legs reattached and your face mended, you went to Ratchet.

If you wanted your weapons repaired, cleaned, reassembled and tuned up or just plain up graded- Ironhide was your Autobot of choice.

Hell, he even put his unique talents to good use for the N.E.S.T. team a large portion of the time. Human guns were simple but efficient for such a young and, in his opinion, 'primitive' race. But frag, did they have a stock of courage and loyalty behind that slight downfall.

If there were more humans like Sam and the Special Forces unit out there, then there was hope yet for this planet.

Lifting the heavy component, Ironhide reattached the ensemble completely back into his right forearm and practiced raising it to the 'ready' position and back down again. Feeling complete for the first time in over a week, the black mech released a sigh from his vents in pure bliss.

"You stupid son of a-"

"Don't go there, we're brothers after all. "

"Quit telling me what to do! "

"Try and stop me-"

A crash and a loud burst of blisteringly profanity caused Ironhide to groan. Those twins were something else. How Bumblebee put up with them by himself, for as long as he did without rendering them offline permanently, was truly remarkable.

Ironhide wasn't even remotely close to being that patient.

"Cut that out you rat bastard!" Skid's green body was pinned under Mudflap, who was trying to squish his brother's face into a twisted pile of junk.

Swiveling from his seat, Ironhide had his repaired darling out and pinned on the irritating sparklings in the blink of an eye. "Boys." He growled low and rough, hoping that they'd ignore him so he'd have a reason to test his repaired canon.

Even they weren't that stupid.

Pausing in mid-scuffle, their optics widened as they took in the warm rotating light from Ironhide's largest canon.

"Maybe you should show yourselves out." The weapon's specialist rumbled, thoroughly enjoying the slightly wild looks of panic on their sparkling faces.

"Uh…" Skids choked.

"Good idea!" Mudflap was off like a shot, his alternate form speeding away like the Con's of Hell were after him.

"W-wait up Mudflap!" the green Chevy Beat wasn't far behind his deserting brother's tailpipe.

Chuckling darkly, Ironhide off lined his weapon before someone caught site of him taking aim at the twins and tattled on him. Optimus could be touchy about things like that sometimes. Turning back to his work bench -the largest work bench in the history of the planet Epps once said- Ironhide sorted his tools into their special compartments and organized his excess parts into their holding bins. The quiet of the hanger was preferable to those loud mouth glitches any day.

It wasn't long before a small blip in his sensors alerted him to another's presence. Careful not to turn around and accidently step on someone, Ironhide twisted his upper body and swept his optical gaze across the monstrous hangar. Epps was strolling towards him with a strange look on his face.

The Chief Master Sergeant, Major Lennox, and a small handful of others were really the only humans that conversed with him regularly, which if Ironhide was honest, was completely fine with him. He was a warrior, not the town gossip. Conversational skills were more Optimus and Ratchet's prerogative anyway, so he usually left it up to them to be diplomatic. He could do it too, when he felt like it, but he'd just rather let his guns do the talking.

"Yo, 'Hide." Epps called up to the large black 'bot when he realized he already had the mechs blue 'eyed' attention. "The Major needs you over in communications since Big Blue is still out of commission. We need an Autobot Representative."

Communications? "What seems to be the problem?" Ironhide asked unfolded to his feet and started to move towards the Sergeant in even, ground trembling, steps.

"Ah…I'm not entirely sure. I was just ordered to retrieve you on the Majors orders." Epps reported, the peculiar look on his face never really dissipating. Ironhide wasn't an expert on interpreting human expressions so he didn't really know what to do about it if the human wouldn't divulge information willingly.

Glancing back behind him as if checking for someone, Epps turned back and craned his head to look up at the stocky mech, "Actually, Billy was called in there earlier because the President of the United States, his Secretary of State and General Morshower were on the line." He confessed. "I'm not sure why but it's probably nothing good."

Politics then. "Where's Ratchet?"

"With Optimus still." Epps said, rubbing his neck in a tired fashion. "He was the one that said you were the official Autobot liaison if Big Blue wasn't available."

Damn it all.

Seeing the obvious displeasure in the stocky mech, Epps could only offer an apologetic shrug, "Sorry man, we tried to avoid making you do this."

"It's my responsibility as second." He said with a small shake of his head. Well, his conversation skills were going to get a good work out today after all. Frag it.

"You seem uncomfortable with this." Ironhide said pointedly as Epps fidgeted with nervous energy.

Epps stilled before throwing a look over his shoulder again. "The suits back in Washington probably mean well, but they always have…motives for _everything_ they ever do." Catching Ironhide's blue gaze, Epps frowned "I don't like civilian desk jockeys messing around with my men and comrades like they were just…expendable property in monetary value alone."

Ironhide understood perfectly as he started moving toward the bay door. "You think they're going to be coming after us again?"

Epps turned and started to jog in union with Ironhide's lumbering gate, "Probably. Don't let them try and push you guys off Earth, Ironhide. Optimus was polite about it, but we're serious! This is you're home now too!" Epps wasn't kidding. Guys across the forces loved the Autobots like the brother's-in-arms they were.

"Understood, Sergeant." Ironhide watched as Epps turned on his heal and marched off to presumably go waste time until this meeting was over, while the black mech continued on his path towards the HQ.

Coming in to the main hangar that housed Autobot and Communications alike, Ironhide immediately noticed that two computer techs and the Major were the only other occupants in the building; the other Autobots must have scattered to give the humans space in their negotiations. Lennox seemed to be getting antsy and as he spotted Ironhide pacing toward the elevated communication platform, the major gave him a slightly strained grin before he turned his attention back to the discussion he was supposed to be following. Ironhide immediately decided he'd wait before announcing himself to see where this was all going.

"…-General, we _highly_ recommend you consider our suggestion." A voice Ironhide didn't recognize stated over the speakers.

"Absolutely not." General Morshower intoned sharply.

Lennox's stance was stiff, "I agree with General Morshower, sir. I don't believe it would be the best course of action."

"I was speaking with _only _the General, Major."

Lennox didn't respond and Ironhide watched the techs shoot the video screen a few dirty looks before turning back to their work.

"General, you need to look at the big picture! The public is _demanding_ answers to their questions. Not just our own country either. The nations of the world are _demanding those same _answers! Egypt is absolutely _furious_ about _several_ ancient buildings being completely _demolished _and _they_ are _blaming_ _us!_" the same voice fired off. Ironhide did a voice scan and came up with a picture of an unremarkable looking, middle-aged human male that happened to be the current Secretary of State.

"The right people in Egypt are aware of what transpired. As like with the Chinese government in relation to Hong Kong with the factory and highway incidents, we are working with them to come up with appropriate solutions and answers to keep their people calm for the time being." General Morshower patiently explained. "This was an unavoidable situation we found ourselves and it couldn't be helped."

The scoff was discernable from Ironhides position "Unavoidable? We were prepared for diplomatic intervention before your men took matters into their own bumbling hands and went Rambo all over the place!"

"What do you purpose we do then? Parade the Autobots before the public like a horse and pony show? I repeat, _absolutely_ not."

A new voice entered the heated discussion and Ironhide was quick to place the voice with an image of the Commander and Chief of the United States. "The secret is out, Hank. I'm at a loss for a way to explain this without acknowledging their presence here. We can't keep deceiving the masses anyway since the videos of this recent occurrence are all over the major news networks and internet already."

"Mr. President, I just don't believe making a huge production of the Autobot's existence will help matters. Most nations will think this a hoax put on by the United States military." The General reasoned as calmly as he could. "We've been issued several threats of retaliation if we don't lay down 'these new weapons'. Hell, the United Nations issued two sanctions on us already!"

"I'm well aware General, but as far as I'm convinced, there's no way around this." The exasperation was palpable in the President's voice.

"Mr. President, sir, the Autobot's residency will most likely be met with heavy opposition. They've worked-"

"What makes you think that the well being of those aliens should have any clout in _our_ decisions?" the Secretary interrupted with an angry snap. How did a clown like that come to hold an office where subtlety and finesse were required anyway?

The silence that followed the politician's tirade was tense as Ironhide watched Lennox curl his hands into white knuckled fists.

"Because they saved this planet, _sir_, and therefore deserve our respect and gratitude. They've sacrificed much to defeat an enemy that has been here longer than our own race." Lennox vehemently spat at the secretary as he swallowed most of his rage over the cheap shots taken at the Autobot's expense. "If you have such an aversion to them-"

"Major." The quiet reprimand from the General wasn't lost on Lennox and he went silent immediately.

"We need _someone_ to work with, gentlemen so why not the boy?" the president suggested after a bloated pause. The shuffling of papers was heard over the line as he searched for some tidbit of information. "Samuel Witwicky?"

Ironhide stiffened.

"If the global community isn't going to believe the political leaders of the United States, what could a teenaged boy possibly hope to accomplish?" General Morshower immediately cut the foundation out from under that idea.

"Nonsense." The unreasonable Secretary sounded off, "His face was plastered on television sets and computer screens across the globe for _days_ after that creature made his announcement. He-"

Ironhide shifted his great weight in agitation. Dragging the human child into another political power struggle was not something Ironhide would allow. "It would be a public execution for the boy, Mr. Secretary. And that's something I won't allow with or without his consent." He'd rumbled off, his guttural voice freezing the previously unaware men in their places.

He could see the surprised faces of both the President and the Secretary of State from his newly shifted angle. The General seemed to be unaffected and allowed the proceedings to continue, apparently unconcerned as he took a slow sip from his coffee mug. The Secretary opened his mouth a few times before the President took the initiative. "Ah, yes…who…to whom are we speaking?" his voice was strong despite the slight, almost imperceptible, tremble.

Lennox shot the weapon's specialist a grateful look before turning back to the screen to address the men. "Gentlemen, Mr. President- allow me to introduce, the Autobot's Second in Command, and Chief Weapon's Specialist- Ironhide."

There was another bloated pause, which the Secretary recovered from first this time. "Who are you to give orders to us, _Ironhide?"_

A soft snort met Ironhide's processors as Lennox and the computer techs exchanged eye rolls. Amused, the big mech moved to address the irritating human on the screen, out of view of the camera lens. "The child is under _our _protection, Mr. Secretary. I won't allow him to be pushed into a potentially harmful situation that he doesn't have a say in or no prior knowledge of, _again_."

"_Your_ protection?" Scoffed the insolent man barked with a laugh. He was more annoying than the twins and twice as dense. "You about had him killed several times over for your own gain-"

"He, _on his own_, decided to aid our cause. For which you should be _exceedingly thankful_ for. You're lack of bravery in facing your own race is boldly displayed in your efforts to cower behind a child. A child who had managed to stand up to complete hostiles without a twitch or the luxury of a 'shield' of his own, might I add." Ironhide smoothly interjected, interrupting without a care. "If you wish to pursue your little plan, you will need to speak with the boy and get his permission first. Be warned though, we won't allow you to bully him into being your scapegoat just so you can save your own hides."

The stunned silence was rather gratifying if Ironhide did say so himself.

Lennox and the techs didn't know whether to be horrified, or to start cracking up. The General had a mild look about him, not agreeing with, but certainly not denying the Weapon's Specialist's statement. The President looked affronted and the Secretary of State seemed ready to explode.

"I will be throwing my vote in with Ironhide, gentlemen." The General commented lightly as he eyed the other men on the screen, "We owe the Autobots much, and should respect their decision."

"Wait one min-" When would that man learn to shut up?

"They are our allies, Mr. Secretary, and should be treated as such." Morshower was getting tired of playing word games with this man.

The Secretary sputtered in anger for a moment before the President decided to speak, "I think a recess is in order for us to consider everything that has been discussed." -Fought over more like it- "We will continue this brain storming session soon and hopefully in person. Major Lennox, would you pass the message on to Mr. Witwicky? I would like to be able to speak with him as soon as we can get him back to the states."

"Of course, Mr. President." The Major agreed politely.

Nodding his thanks, the men said their-strained- goodbyes and cut the connection.

Lennox sighed loudly before sagging against the guard rail facing Ironhide. "That Secretary Gates is a pain in the ass to deal with."

"They wish to use Sam."

It was a statement, not a question.

Dropping his eyes from the giant mech, Lennox exhaled. "It's…complicated. More so than it should be."

The weapon's specialist just waited in dead silence.

Rubbing a tired hand over his face, Lennox paused to think for a second before responding. "An explanation. They need someone to be a flagship for this little war of ours and Sam is a perfect pick simply because he was there, and his image had been splashed across the sphere and he's a just a simple civilian teenager." Shaking his head, the Major made for the latter to climb down. "I believe you called them on it though. They want someone to cower behind when the backlash hits, which it already has. And since Sam is just an average Joe in the crowd without a title or an official affiliation to someone, he can be sacrificed in their eyes if the dealings go sour."

"That's an unacceptable solution, Major." Ironhide rumbled disapprovingly.

"That's what the General and I have been fighting against since the moment we boarded the ship. I don't want the kid anywhere near those cut throats either, but there's little I can do without removing myself from my current position, and I'm more useful where I am than if I were court marshaled or dishonorably discharged." Lennox hated the spot he currently found himself. Sticking up for someone like Sam was near impossible when one is at the bottom of the pecking order. "I'm counting on the Brass sticking up for and recognizing Sam's sacrifices, but if they fall through, we're going to find ourselves backed quickly into a corner."

"The boy needs to be protected, regardless of how it's accomplished." Ironhide carefully turned to leave the hangar. "Optimus needs to be made aware of what's going on…so does Sam."

Nodding, Lennox tiredly started to job to keep pace with of the stocky black mech's clicking gate as they headed for the Med Hangar where Optimus and the other Autobot's were currently parked, after being evicted by the Major's longwinded phone call.

"This sucks." Lennox bitterly commented into the warm afternoon air. "I was hoping the world would keep for a while longer so we could relax a bit."

"Hn."

Sam could be found moseying about the surprisingly large military base in the company of the only civilian members on the entire island. His parents hovered and fussed, Mikaela snuggled and teased, Simmons grumbled and reminisced, and Leo complained loudly about being hungry.

"I wasn't allowed breakfast at all because _someone_ had a fit over the misplacement of her precious boyfriend."

Raising an eyebrow at the disgruntled college student, Mikaela rolled her eyes, "Aww, poor _bay-bee_." She cooed in his direction. "I didn't realize how sensitive you'd be to missing your snack time."

"No respect." Leo threw his hands up in exasperation. "Your girlfriend is in serious need for some mannerism lessons, Sam."

Sam looked down at the dark brunette wrapped around his arm "You think so? I thought she was behaving much better than normal."

"Sam!"

Leo and Simmons quickly swallowed their ill-concealed snickers as Mikaela turned a frosty scowl in their direction. Moving over a few feet more, they proceed to continue their merriment in safety.

Sam grinned as he bumped her with his shoulder to reclaim her attention. "It's nice here." He commented softly, so as to not be overheard.

Mikaela hummed noncommittally. What would have been a calendar shot, million dollar view was marred by distant metal ships skirting back forth under the Thomas the Tank Engine blue skies that were liberally blotched with fluffy cloud banks. The rolling rumbles of jet engines blasting off to who knew where every few minutes like clock work wasn't winning any points with her either. "I suppose you could say that."

"I wasn't exactly talking about the scenery, but yeah, that's kinda nice too."

Shifting her grip, she hugged his arm to her while she turned to rest her chin on his shoulder, "What did you mean?"

Sam had a far away look in his eyes that hadn't been there moments ago, but Mikaela waited for him to pick up where he left off in his own time. Watching him, she couldn't help but be struck by the picture he made. The mid-morning sun glittering off the aquamarine water painted a mosaic of heavenly colors that danced behind him, had her war worn Sam looking more rugged then she had ever remembered seeing him. Then again, he'd been looking infinitely more…studdly since this whole escapade began.

Sam wasn't handsome in the more traditional sense of the word. He was no sports star. He didn't have muscles on his muscles like most of the ape-like losers that she had always managed to attract (but he had gained enough to leap the line from scrawny to 'hello, sir!'). His nose was a little too large for his face and his chin wasn't as strong as it could have been, but when you stepped back and looked at him, his features worked to mask his 'imperfections' and create a pleasing visual image that firmly dabbled in the cute to good-looking range.

Pursing her lips a little as she continued to study him, Mikaela tried to put her finger on just what made girls take second and third looks. He didn't seem to really notice unless they came up to him, but she was well aware of every one of them every time they stepped out. She would have honestly felt a little threatened if it wasn't for his seemingly oblivious state of consciousness towards all female attention except hers. A little itch in her memory had the whole college dorm incident coming to the forefront and she had to bite back a scowl and force down the little bit of doubt that started to sprout in her mind.

He was insanely loyal…he had been set up.

This she had to tell herself over and over.

Sam wasn't a player. He honestly loved her…she could overlook that one blunder. She was bigger than that. Although she would bring it up from time to time to harass him if he was ever being dicky.

He turned to look at her as if sensing her heated gaze. "I actually meant this." He gestured with his free hand to the space in-between and around them. "Just being here with you…our friends…" He trailed off a little, as if his thought pattern had blanked unexpectedly, leaving an adorably confused look on his face.

Or it could be because Sam was just an overall nice, likeable guy that the ladies sensed. He wasn't a tool or a frat boy wannabe. He didn't do the normal 'young and wild' thing with the drinking and near non-stop partying that guys his age normally reveled in. He cared, and loved, without hesitation and said the sweetest things because he actually believed them. And to think, she finally won the lottery in men, and had nearly lost him…

"Oh, Sam…" she sighed as she slipped under his arm to snuggle gently against his still tender and bruised ribs. "I love you." She said thickly.

He wrapped his arm around her waste and pulled her tight against him without any regard for his battered body. "I love you too." He murmured by her ear, a note of surprise in his voice. "Mikaela? Is something-"

The loud bleating of a car alarm startled the group badly, enough so that Leo and Simmons were in a half crouch. Sam was rubbing his side, having jerked something. He turned expecting 'Bee to be churning up the beach, but was surprised to see Ratchet blazing toward them. Surprise quickly morphed to panic. Ratchet refused to leave Optimus earlier. What could have happened to change that? What happened to Optimus?

"Ratchet!" Sam called as he broke away from the group and ran to meet the slowing rescue Hummer. "Ratchet, is it Optimus?"

If Optimus died again…

If they lost him…

The Autobot medic skidded to a halt and Sam almost slammed into the vehicle's front grating in an effort to stop. "Ratchet? What's wrong? Optimus, is he okay?" He fored off quickly as he used the large Hummer's hood and side to help hold him up as he hustled around to the driver's side.

"Easy Sam," Ratchet's steady voice called through the speakers in the cab. Even with the window rolled down, Sam yanked the door open to here better. "I'm here to collect you. Optimus has requested a meeting."

Exhaling loudly, Sam sagged and dropped his head onto the arm that propped the driver's door ajar. "Man, Ratchet, you sure know how to scare the crap outta me."

"You seem anxious, Sam. Are you well?" A bombardment of lasers flashed across the slouched teen, and Sam could only groan.

"I'm fine, Ratchet! You just freaked me out. I thought something had happened to Optimus…" he trailed off.

"Optimus is in stable stasis, Samuel. You need not worry." The hummer responded. "However, I do need you to come along with me."

Leo and Simmons reached them first, but it was Mikaela who barreled through the guys, that asked. "What's wrong? Is it Optimus?"

Sam straightened up, already shaking his head. "He's fine, Optimus is fine." He quickly said.

"So what was with the dramatic entrance?" Simmons snapped, giving away the fact that he actually cared about the Non-biologic alien leader, despite normally appearing otherwise.

"Sam needs to come with me, for a meeting with Optimus." Ratchet's voice rumbled around them.

"Why?" Leo huffed shuffling over a little to allow Sam's mother and father into their circle around the Autobot and boy in question.

Ratchet released a 'sigh' from his vents. "Apparently, Ironhide and the Major had a meeting with your American President and a few advisors earlier." The medic relayed, barely contain the contempt in his voice. Sam knew for a fact that Ratchet, while good at politics, had very little patience for them.

"And?" Sam's father asked when the medic trailed off. "What does this have to do with my son?"

The Hummer shifted its weight, and Sam felt a chill race up and down his spine.

"The President of your America, wants to talk with Sam" the medic reported in a clipped, heated tone.

Sam swallowed a lump.

"Why, Ratchet?" Mikaela snapped.

"To discuss the boy's future."

* * *

**Oh balls!** We be movin' folks!


	4. Chapter 4

_**You're beautiful. Never give up. Don't give in. Keep slugging on. Keep smiling. Life gets better, just don't give up on it. Don't surrender. Don't toss the flag in. We're in this together, and I won't abandon you if you don't give up either.** _That is for you, dear reader, because I know we all have those times when we second guess everything. Our choices, our lives, our decisions.

There are mistakes! I proof read like crazy, but I miss stuff all the time. **Pretend they are little kisses for you. : )**

**True Moxy!**

**Doubt**

Lennox groaned loudly before pinching the bridge of his nose. "I'm not going to counseling for Post-Traumatic Stress crap. I don't have it, so save the resources for someone who does."

Doctor Touchy-feely looked mildly interested as he adjusted his jotter on his lap. "Is that so?"

Oh for the love of- "Yes, I'm sure." He bite out, wishing he could leave. Shame he wasn't nine anymore…

The office was different this time. It wasn't the cramped stateroom that the carrier had, yet there was still the overwhelming flavor of 'military' covering everything. It was Lennox's office on Diego Garcia, and he didn't appreciate having it infiltrated by psychologists intent on trying to get him to talk about his feelings or cry over past experiences.

He wasn't knocking the guys that did need the mental and emotional help. He just felt that he was being dogged for no reason….aside from his alien coworkers.

A person needed to be a little touched working in the weird, except that wasn't a good enough reason to bug him- he felt. Look at the Witwicky kid and his car! They were currently having a heart to heart out on the beach. The major snorted as he turned his eyes away from the window. He'd bet money on Sam being able to throw a stick, and Bumblebee tearing out after it like an over-eager, metal, Labrador.

"So why do your superiors feel you need me here?"

Say what? "I don't know, you tell me." He snapped. His superiors felt he needed to speak to a psychiatrist?

What the hell?

"You're angry, why?"

Lennox tossed his hands up. He was fed up with these sessions and he was through being polite about it. "Because you're asking me dumb questions, wasting my time, and are sitting in _my_ comfortable desk chair."

The older man sighed loudly before checking the time on his watch. Shuffling some of his notes around, he began to write something down on an orange leaflet. With a sharp click of his pen, he stood to his feet. "Major Lennox, our time is up for this session-"

"Praise the lord." Lennox grunted nastily.

"-and we'll pick-up where we left off next week." The psychiatrist finished blandly, stuffing his papers into his briefcase.

"Oh, for the love of- I'm fine! There's nothing wrong with me! I sleep fine, I eat, I haven't cried since I was nineteen! I don't hate my parents, I love my wife and daughter, and I don't really see the need for us to get together to unravel 'my mysteries' because I don't have any!" The major snapped. He had things to do. He was a busy, busy man and needed all the time alone he could get to put a dent in his backed up paper work.

"I'm sorry, Major, I really am. Orders are orders and until I give the all clear or they do, we will be seeing each other next week."

Lennox curled his hands into fists as he glowered at the man behind _his_ desk. "There's a very good chance I won't _be_ here next week." He mentioned lightly in a last ditch effort to get out of having to have another verbal cuddle with Doctor Touchy-feely.

"Oh, not to worry." The doctor said in a mild voice as he removed his glasses. "I'll find you." And with that, he strode from the room, shutting the door behind him, leaving a gaping major in his wake.

"The army has better things to do then waste resources shipping your butt everywhere just to pester me!" Lennox yelled childishly at the closed door, making a mental note to be gone from this island as soon as possible. He slapped a hand to his face and rubbed vigorously to try and chase away the exhaustion that had been pursuing him since yesterday's phone call from Washington. He was tired, and this last hour had been no picnic for him.

Damn Doctor Touchy-feely.

Damn that Secretary of State, Gates.

How the kid was going to deal with the top the big dogs, Lennox could only speculate with Epps and the others.

Poor Sam.

Where that boy managed to pull his strength from, Lennox could only guess, because kids these days did not take on the sort of challenges that Witwicky brat did. Trained soldiers, yes…sometimes… but teenagers pulled fresh from a classroom?

Lennox would feel a hundred percent secure betting money on Sam never having even been drunk, and yet he was blazing all over the planet looking for a fable- a ghost of a memory that might lead to a key that there was no definitive proof of actually existing, just to save friend and by default, the planet.

While being hunted, with nothing but a handful of civilians, and the loyalty of car to help him.

It was beyond impressive.

When Sam met the Autobots, he was just some geek in high school…when Lennox was that age, he was pretty sure he spent his days playing football and picking on kids just like Sam because he had touch of douchebag syndrome thanks, in part, to poor choices.

Then again, Sam was fundamentally a better, less jaded man than Lennox. It took military drill sergeants literally beating the ever-living crap out of him until he was worn down, to be able to rebuild him mentally into the man he was today.

He had been a punk at Sam's age.

It took growing up for him to become that guy that would purposely crash and slide a motorcycle underneath a mountain of a foe.

Sam was a natural at it.

Lennox gazed contemplatively out the window to see the boy way down the beach sitting on a piece of driftwood, probably lost in thought about what Optimus, Ironhide, and Lennox had told him yesterday. He hadn't said anything to anyone at the time, just listened, frowned, and quietly excused himself to be alone.

Mikaela had about scalped him after Sam had slipped out; she was so livid at the entire situation.

"_Why didn't you say 'fuck no'?" She barked at him, eyes blazing as she zeroed in on a target that could actually feel her wrath. "He shouldn't have to fucking save everyone every _fucking_ time!"_

"_There's nothing set in stone, Mikaela, Sam doesn't have to agree to anything." He had reasoned as calmly as he could, holding his ground as she thrust herself into his face in her rage. It wasn't like he was thrilled with the whole idea either._

_She snorted rudely as she flung her arms out to her sides, as if holding the problem on her shoulders to demonstrate how real of an issue it was. "And do you think he'd actually say no? That he'd turn his back on his friends?"_

"_Mikaela listen-" He started, only for her to interrupt before he could even really begin. She was like his wife in that respect…_

"_He won't say no! He will sacrifice his happiness! He'll give, and give, and give until he can't do it anymore and then what?" She exploded, her overly bright eyes flashing with anger and desperation; trying to make those around her understand the gravity of what she was saying. "He'll be a broken man! He already was! He'll kill himself for those he cares about! This just shouldn't be about him doing it alone!"_

"_He won't do it alone!" Lennox ground out, clenching his hands into fists as he matched glares with the shorter girl. "Mikaela, he won't do this alone if he chooses to go along with it at all! The President can't make Sam do anything against his will!"_

_She grabbed at her head in a moment of madness that had their audience watching in sick fascination as Mikaela clung to her sanity. "He won't say no! He's never said no and stuck with it! He barreled head first into finding those glasses, saving Bumblebee, fighting the feds, saving us and Optimus, the cube, Megatron, Decepticons, death rays- never once thinking of how this will affect, hurt, or maim him because he was always last on his list- NEED I GO ON!" _

"_He'll be protected, Mikaela, just calm down." Epps spoke up for the first time, slowly approaching her like he would a cornered wild animal. "Nobody will hurt-"_

"_Him physically?" She whirled on the Chief Master Sergeant, finishing his attempt at comfort with a false laugh. "I wasn't speaking in terms of bodily harm." She spat acidly. _

_Lennox felt his mouth snap shut as his shoulder's tensed. He was aware Sam was…not troubled per say…but shook up still. How far could he be pushed before he 'broke' as Mikaela so forcefully put it?_

The major had backed down, realizing her argument carried a lot more weight than just a protective driven defense for her boyfriend.

Sam was, as Ratchet had uttered softly to Optimus after Mikaela had finally been calmed down by freaking _Ironhide _(of all people and Autobots present) and coaxed into taking an aspirin before she and an anxious Bumblebee set out to go find Sam, all heart. His desire to help those he cared about drove Sam to staying beside a crippled 'Bee in a war zone. It drove him to the top of that building with no probable escape. His heart made him dash over hundreds of yards of open ground at the mercy of every tracer, blaster, and Decepticon aware of the price on his head, to save Optimus…

Sam was the stereotypical heroic martyr. He'd die trying to save what was most precious to him, be it flesh and blood, or energon and metal. It was his ultimate source of strength.

Sam was tough in a way Lennox envied. He'd step into battle without a weapon and only a sliver of hope, and never look back.

What made Sam strong, also made him weak…and Lennox would be flat out lying if he wasn't bothered by the thought of the kid's downfall.

He needed a drink…

Shame there wasn't an ounce of booze within a thousand mile radius of his desk.

Standing slowly to his feet, he moved around his desk and kicked the chair back before plopping roughly into _his_ seat. He had a mountain of reports, documents, orders, and supply lists that needed his attention, but now that he had the peace and quiet to accomplish them, he just stared blankly at the piles hopping they would just do themselves. Lennox shook his head; it could wait for a few minutes as he pressed the 'on' button and booted up his computer.

His wife and daughter should be just getting up for breakfast right about now.

* * *

"Maybe I should become baker." Sam broke the silence as he aimlessly doodled little images into the damp sand at his feet with a stick Bumblebee had found.

The Camaro parked alongside him clicked, not understanding where his human was going with that conversation starter.

"Bakers have predictable outcomes. They wake up early, bake delicious breads and pastries, sell their goods, and end the day making more delicious breads and pastries. After repeating this trend for several years, they become fat and jolly, before kicking it peacefully, as the people they leave behind squabble and fight over recipe rights." He rambled, sketching a rough image of 'Bee's face. "I wouldn't have to worry about more than burning stuff or worrying about if the yeast rose properly overnight."

"_Why would you choose such a mediocre existence?"_ Steven Hawking's robotic voice chirped and Sam felt a tired grin tug at his lips.

"It would be easier."

"_You wouldn't be you." _Some English woman countered.

Sam looked up to watch a distant fighter jet zip over their heads. "Maybe it's who I'd like to eventually be."

'Bee was silent for a moment, but Sam had the feeling his 'car' was analyzing everything Google had to offer on 'bakers' before the chrome yellow Autobot snipped in a girlish voice, _"You don't bake." _

"I can learn."

"_Highly unlikely."_ Dr. House growled as the Camaro pulled forward, bumping his leg gently with a fender, prompting Sam to drop his head onto his arms with a laugh.

'Bee was confused and worried to such an extent that Sam could almost feel it radiating of the overly affectionate Autobot. They had been best friends for the last couple years, so it was no surprise that his 'car' would know at once when something was off with him. 'Bee was uncanny with his six 'Sam' sense as Mikaela dubbed it. The Autobot always knew when Sam was in trouble, upset, happy, excited, sad…

He always knew. Yet, being a foreign being unaccustomed to people as a species, there was definitely a learning curve for the both of them. Trying to comfort each other was hard. 'Bee was a creature of the here and now. He rarely worried about the future because he lived in the present, and cared nothing for the past aside from learning from it. Sam, like all human beings, fixated on both tomorrow and yesterday with very little consideration for today. What challenges lay around the bend? Why didn't he choose that path aside from this path, and how will it affect him in the long run?

The yellow Autobot focused on what was before him at this moment- currently a sulking Sam. He did not bother dwelling on Egypt, or what the future held back in the States.

So why couldn't he follow his best friend's example? Live today and worry about tomorrow when he crossed that bridge. Sam dropped a hand down onto 'Bee's hood and patted it a few times. His yellow friend was one of the strongest individuals he knew…all the Autobots were. Optimus never hesitated taking on multiple issues at once, be it Decepticons, or political discussions, or the fate of his people. He held his head high, and accepted challenges for what they were. He was Superman- the eternal good guy that always managed to pull through for those counting on him. Ironhide flat out didn't give a shit, and was confident enough to be able to barge into any situation without preamble if need be. Ratchet, like all medics in the military, never abandoned anyone that could be saved. Loyal to a fault, uncaring about what could happen to him with his back turned on cannon fire and attention focused firmly in helping his friends and allies. And Bumblebee, despite his obvious lack of age in comparison to the others was just as daring, loyal, and stubborn with the added trait of being caring. He didn't bend. He didn't give up unless it was to save someone he cared about, because he had that much courage. Discovering and learning the unknown was his job as a scout and he would fight until rendered offline to keep what was most important safe. He took damage to save Sam on multiple occasions, sacrificing himself for a human he only just met because Sam had attempted to help.

'Bee was everything good and strong and pure. He was just as fearless as his larger blue leader Optimus Prime, as compassionate as Ratchet, and as stubborn as Ironhide.

None of the Autobots would freak out at having to face the President and the world, Sam thought bitterly as he felt the energy that danced almost imperceptibly across 'Bee shiny hood- a mark of him being something other than a really slick looking vehicle. Sam smiled as a small charged tingled through his fingers as 'Bee 'hugged' him. What would he do without his best friend?

He froze as that last thought fully materialized in his mind.

Was that it?

Was it because of how fearless they were in comparison to Sam himself? How they could do the impossible, fight the upward struggle without faltering or losing faith in their ultimate goal?

Was it because he was more terrified of being thrust upon a world stage where one screw-up could ruin things for his friends, then staring at the frightening, twistedly evil face of Megatron? Or was it because he had less faith in himself to be able to accomplish anything without a transformable safety net that just happened to become really cool looking cars?

He feared he knew the truth.

The rhythmic sloshing of the waves onto the sandy white beach couldn't help lull him into any form of comfort. The warm ocean breezy didn't relieve him of his burden and the calming tropical scene couldn't relax him as one thought in particular spiraled out of control in his mind.

"I'm scared, 'Bee." He finally uttered softly to his quiet companion. "I'm scared."

'Bee made a digital whining sound that sounded inquisitive before the Camaro burst apart at the seams, the humanoid robot evolving from the spinning parts within. It was a sight Sam could never quite get enough of seeing. It didn't defy logic exactly, but it certainly boggled the mind that a near twenty foot tall creature could hide as common car.

The transformed Autobot shook sand out of his cleats before plopping down next to Sam's perch with a teeth rattling shake, the cushy sand doing nothing to absorb the 'bot's immense weight. 'Bee wasn't the tallest, or the biggest of the Autobots currently lurking on Diego Garcia, but he certainly wasn't less impressive because of it.

A massive, wired hand reached out and plucked a log of driftwood from the surf the size of Sam's leg and began dragging it through the saltwater soaked sand just like his human friend had been doing. Sam watched in fascination as 'Bee re-examined the tip of the log before reaching up and peeling off parts of the grayish wood till a fairly decent point remained. Apparently satisfied, the seventeen foot tall Autobot resumed drawing alongside his human counterpart like a giant toddler imitating his father.

Sam blinked, before dropping his eyes to what his 'car' was creating. Poorly rendered, fat little Ironhide faces were frowning up at them and Sam snorted.

"_What are you afraid of?" _'Bee asked his question via two different voice clips as he continued to make grumpy Ironhides all around his cleated feet. Sam jerked; he hadn't been expecting Bumblebee to say anything to his confession.

He should have known better. His alien friend would never have let the topic of 'fear' drop.

'Bee leaned forward a little and smoothed a portion of beach out, erasing earlier versions of his Ironhide collection. _"A soldier only fears failure, so what are you afraid of failing at?"_ a grouchy sounding blurb from a war movie Sam had seen a long time ago continued on in his silence.

"I'm not a soldier." Was his immediate response. He wasn't. He never trained to be anything more than a rather okay computer tech.

"_You fight for a cause greater than yourself." _

Sam shook his head. "That doesn't make me a soldier."

"_Wrong."_ This time the voice was more concentrated, rather than out-sourced, and Sam snapped his head up once he realized it wasn't just an audio bite. 'Bee's voice processor was still being worked on by Ratchet, but for the most part, the yellow scout 'bot was able to speak just fine. He just chose not too normally. _"Anyone willing to fight, and continue fighting for what they believe in is a warrior, Sam."_

"I sure don't feel like that. " He sighed. If anything, he felt like crap.

"_You stepped into battle alongside 'soldiers' because you felt you had too. Originally you were in the wrong place at the wrong time. We asked for your assistance, and you gave it. Had you left it at that, than yes, you would be just as you claim. You were no longer just a 'good samaritan' when you dove back into the fray to save, not only us, but this planet." _'Bee's deep voice rumbled around him, and Sam momentarily felt disoriented at having such a mature sounding voice being emitted from his friend that was doodling goofy South Park characters dancing with a slew of glowering Ironhides and bananas. _"A soldier, aside from what the name originally referred too, has evolved into more than just a single individual in a line of many."_

Sam didn't know what to say to that, but 'Bee obviously didn't feel the need to fill the silence.

The sun was slowly sinking toward the horizon and when the first glitter of starlight caught his attention, and Sam moved to get up. Bumblebee had been busily illustrating all sorts of things all over the beach for the better part of the last two hours, and Sam was amused to see that, aside from many cartoon characters and quite a few people back at the barracks, Ironhide still consumed much of the yellow Autobot's artistic musings,

"What's with all the Ironhides?" He asked as he stepped over and around a small pack of the unhappy weapons specialist littering the ground.

"_Easy target." _The Camaro's speakers promptly answered as it reverted to its 'car' shape._ "Time to go?"_

Sam nodded sluggishly. "Yeah, Mikaela and my parents are probably starting to worry."

* * *

As the flashy sport's car pulled up the beach onto the crushed coral road that ran alongside the ocean, Sam let himself sink into the side door.

He wished he had more time to figure himself out before agreeing to anything, but life recently hadn't been exactly easy. Why should that change?

'Bee dropped him off at the barracks that he and the other civilians from Egypt had been placed in upon arriving at Diego Garcia two days ago. Sam had rather expected to be home by now.

He wanted to go home. He rather missed his childhood room…he missed normal.

Rubbing 'Bee's door in thanks, Sam trudged tiredly down the hallway toward his designated room, wondering briefly if he should check in with his parents. He saw them earlier, but they seemed to have finally realized that he needed space…it only took them his entire life plus five Autobots to figure that common bit of courtesy.

Mikaela was camped out on his bed when he pushed his door open and Sam tossed her small, but genuine smile. He wondered when she would turn up.

She tried smiling back, but it didn't quite meet her tired bluish-gray eyes. In fact, he scrutinized her face as he started to toe at his shoes, they looked a little pink. "Have you been crying?" Sam blurted, quickly kicking his sandy shoes and socks off before hopping up on his shoddy little bed and crowding around her. "Why have you been crying?" He demanded. Mikaela was tough as nails and almost never cried. If pushed to admit it, Sam was almost certain he's cried more than she had since they had started dating.

He had issues watching movies with dogs that died at the end, he couldn't help that.

She looked slightly frightened, and that really concerned him. Mikaela didn't do frightened either. "I- I haven't really been crying," She tried, but Sam just shook his head as he snaked a slightly sore arm around her waist and pulled her closer. She couldn't sway him that easily.

"Tell me." Was all he said, burying his fingers in her thick dark hair and pulling her head to his non-damaged shoulder.

"I'm fine, Sam." She softly snuggled into his neck, and relaxed gently into him, hyper conscious of his still bruised body. "Really, I am."

"What's with the pink eyes and tragic expression then?" He called her on it, albeit groggily as he adjusted them lower on the bed. He must have been more tired than he originally thought. Plus holding her felt so good to him as she reveled in contact. The more the better with Mikaela, and he wasn't complaining.

Girls like her didn't date guys like him.

She said nothing, just lifted one of her legs and draped it over his.

"Mikaela." He said her name coaxingly, and she bit her lip. Pressing her face into the crook of his shoulder and neck, and squeezed her eyes shut.

"Mikaela?" He sounded a little alarmed, and she tried not to giggle, less he hear how upset she really was. He didn't need her problems to deal with.

"I'm okay." She breathed. "I'm alright. Just a little emotional."

Sam just pulled her closer till she was practically glued all along his side. "About today?" She still wasn't saying anything and Sam was a little lost on what to do about it. Girls, in particular Mikaela, normally didn't need prompting to talk. Especially about things like feelings.

So he held her tight and stared tiredly up at the ceiling.

He didn't remember falling asleep with his girl at his side. He had no idea when she started to cry quietly while he dozed on unaware.

She had been as strong as she could possibly be for as long as he'd been awake. He needed her to be strong because Sam was a sweetheart. He always looked so upset when she cried because he wasn't exactly sure on how to fix the problem for her. He was a man of action, and if no action would lead to a resolution to make her happy, he would feel like he failed her and that would just upset him more.

This time would be no different.

Nothing had been agreed to. No contracts signed, no speeches give, no press conferences held, but she had a sinking feeling as to where this was going. The media would tear him apart before he even realized it. The public would go after his family, his friends…

He'd be ostracized as the guy who hung out with Aliens. Foreign countries would target him once they realized he had any influence with the Autobots, believing him a threat and untrustworthy, or worse.

And the Decepticons would not pass a chance up to pick him off just to get back at Optimus. Megatron had basically promised it when he had Sam pinned in that dirty factory.

He would suffer.

And that made her cry more.

She couldn't protect him from what was coming- the world knew who he was. His face was still plastered up around the sphere via internet and news outlets. People were still terrified and that was why the President had approached the military branch in contact with the Autobots- he wanted Sam.

Her sweet Sam.

The guy who bought her flowers for no reason. Who wined and dined her like a princess. Who didn't give two shits her dad was a criminal and who thought her mechanical knowledge made her even 'hotter'. He wasn't threatened by her being able to tune up cars while he could barely change a tire. He encouraged her; pushed her to challenge herself. He suggested she take up painting cars. He wanted her to go to college so she could 'flaunt her brains with all that brawn'. He thought it was sexy that she played in the dirt and could handle wrenches like batons. He was her biggest fan.

And he was about to be dissected by every busy body the planet had to throw at him.

The President had his own plans but regardless of his interference, Sam would never truly disappear from the public eye, not after this. He would always be at humanity's mercy when it came to anonymity. He would never be truly left alone to pursue his own life. He would forever be linked to the team that comprised the Autobot's.

History would remember his name, but would it accurately recall all he did for the Earth and her people? Or would he be demonized as an aid to fancy new weaponry? The Benedict Arnold in the man verse alien conflict? The guy that discovered definitive alien life, only to help destroy the planet?

She could see it in Optimus' face when he broke the news to Sam. He knew what was coming and felt responsible for most of it. Optimus would never abandon Sam, and neither would any of the other Autobots, but there were something's they wouldn't be able to help protect Sam from.

She wasn't so sure if Sam had known what was coming, that it would have deterred him from doing what was right.

Mikaela moved her head so her tears wouldn't drip onto him as he continued to snore lightly- him waking up to her weeping would freak him out.

Dragging her fingers to her face, she whipped furiously at her cheeks, dispelling the salty wetness from under he tired, puffy eyes. He needed her to be strong.

He moved under her, and she immediately froze. He unconsciously pulled her tighter to his side before dropping his head down atop hers and slipped deeper into sleep. Here was a guy that loved her even when asleep!

How flipping unfair was that she finally found her prince, only to nearly lose him to aliens, and maybe mass hordes of angry people?

How messed up was that?

Did nature forbid perfect men and happiness mingling? Was this some sort of cosmic joke?

It made her angry. Fate was such a cruel fucker.

She wanted to scream. She wanted to break something. She wanted to rip apart the injustice of her situation. She wanted to stop thinking.

Nothing had even happened yet and she was ready to crack.

Sucking in a deep breath, Mikaela held it as she slowly counted down from ten. The psychiatrist had informed her it might help to take a moment to get ahold of herself so as to not work her emotions into a murky mess.

Too late for that.

She wanted to blame her imbalance on Egypt. That she was just over reacting because of what happened there, but she knew better.

She knew just how fragile the life she clung so violently too was. He 'died' once, and had taken her heart with him.

In some respects, she never reclaimed parts of it when he had opened his eyes. Relief was instant.

That fear would forever remain.

Mikaela sniffled silently. She wanted to go home, and take him with her.

She did not want him going to Washington. She did not want him to have to fix this mess. She did not want to share him.

But he would go. He would step forward and do what he could, because he was a man of action. He would fix the problems he could, however the hell long it took. He would protect her, his family and the Autobots as best he could because he was strong, resilient. He didn't quit just because things got rough.

He would be Optimus' human representative and he would do it willingly and whole heartedly, because that was who he was. He was strong. He would strive to persevere for his friends.

He would give until he broke.

And that made her cry.

* * *

A/N- I listened to **Angles and Airwaves- Surrender** while finishing the last bit of this chapter. And OMG Ironhide is soo easy! I love him. FU Transformers 3 for killing him! He was too badass to die so quickly! *cries*


End file.
